


Natural Magic

by mad_martha



Series: Checkmate Series [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-27
Updated: 2011-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-19 20:12:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_martha/pseuds/mad_martha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron gets to show Harry his … house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Natural Magic

_"You need to move a bit further to your left,"_ the image in the mirror said.

"If I go much further to the left, Pete, I'll be over the edge of a bluff and into the quarry," Sirius Black told his friend amiably. 

 _"Put the beacon on the edge then."_

"Fine, fine …." 

Sirius set the bundle of twigs and incense sticks on the edge of the bluff and murmured a charm to fix them there."

 _"That's fine,"_ Peter Pettigrew approved.  _"We've got about half a minute.  James?"_

The image in the mirror blurred for a second, then resolved itself into the familiar face of James Potter. 

 _"I'm right up against the outcropping, like you said."_

 _"Good.  Plant the beacon there.  Remus?"_

 _"I found the tree stump.  The beacon's planted."_

Peter's face reappeared in the mirror.  He looked worn out, but relieved.

 _"Brilliant.  We're on the countdown now, so on my mark - ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five - "_

Sirius set the tip of his wand to the beacon.

 _"- three, two, one - light 'em!"_

 _"Incendio,"_ Sirius said calmly, and the beacon flared into life.  Almost at once, strings of energy flared up and stretched out across the distance between it and the other beacons, forming a faint but visible web of power across the valley.

 _"It's set!"_ Peter crowed wearily from the mirror.  _"Well done, everyone!"_

"Great," Sirius approved.  "Now bloody well get yourself into your bedroll and sleep it off, Pete."

 _"I should do those other calculations - "_

 _"In the morning, Pete,"_ James said sternly. _"Turn in.  We'll finish setting up camp for the night, then we can start sorting out proper digs in the morning."_

 _"I'm on my way, Peter, and if you're not in your bedroll when I get there, I'm knocking you out,"_ Remus added.

 _"Oh, all right."_ Peter disappeared from the mirror.

Sirius grinned.  "See you in a minute, you two," he said and he tucked the mirror away in his pocket.  Then he pulled out a long clay pipe, lit it with his wand, and stuck it in the corner of his mouth.

Not a bad night's work.

xXx

When Sirius reached their makeshift campsite, James was busy attaching a note to the leg of his owl, Perdita.

"Thought I'd better let Dumbledore know that we've secured the site," he remarked, when he saw Sirius looking. 

"It won't be properly secure until we set up the Well tomorrow," a sleepy voice said from a mound of blankets to one side.

"You're supposed to be asleep," Remus said sternly from the fireside.  He was putting together a set of fire-irons so they could boil a kettle over it.

"He's right, though," Sirius remarked.  "Do you want to take shifts tonight, just in case?"

"Better, I suppose.  I'll take first watch, if you like - I shan't sleep properly anyway, this close to the full moon."

"Just don't go throwing all your clothes off in the night," James teased.  "I'll take second.  Padfoot, you turn in.  You took first watch last night."

"I'll just finish this pipe."  Sirius sat down next to Remus.  "It's just occurred to me - that house'll probably fix up okay in a few weeks, but not enough before Harry comes home from school.  What are we going to do with him?"

James hesitated, then removed the note from the owl's leg again and added a couple of lines to it.  "I'll ask Dumbledore to contact Lily and see if she can take him for a week or so.  She was talking about spending some time with him when we last saw her, so it might as well be now."

xXx

The crowd on Platform Nine and Three Quarters was starting to thin out as the guard waved parents and kids through in twos and threes.  Ron was waiting with his parents and younger sister when he saw one figure still standing alone on the edge of the platform.  He sauntered over.

"You all right, Potter?"

Harry shot him a quick look.  "Yeah.  It's just … well, they're late I think."

"What, your dad and his mates?"  Ron frowned and looked up and down the platform.  People were still leaving, but no one was arriving.  "Are they usually late?"

"No, but - "

"Ronald!"

Ron sighed and half turned.  "Yeah, Mum?"

Mrs. Weasley bustled over, wearing a frown very similar to her son's.  "The guard's waiting, dear!"

"No one's turned up to collect Harry, Mum."  Ron gestured to the other boy.  "Harry Potter.  My mum," he added in an aside to Harry.

Mrs. Weasley's eyes ran over Harry, at once becoming motherly and concerned. 

"Is it usual for your family to be late, dear?" she asked him kindly.

"No, ma'am, but they might have got held up somewhere," Harry explained.  "I'm not sure where we're living this year.  We move around a lot."

"Hm."  Mrs. Weasley didn't comment, but clearly she wasn't too impressed by the sound of that.  "Do you have an owl?  Perhaps you could send a message.  But you can't stand here on the platform all day, the guard will be wanting to close everything up soon."

"Molly, what's going on?  The guard's waiting …."  Now Mr. Weasley approached.

Ron sighed and repeated the problem, with his mother adding at the end, "The boy can't stay here, Arthur, the platform will be closing soon."

Mr. Weasley considered for a moment.  "Tell you what," he said calmly.  "There's a Muggle café-thing in the main station with a good view of the entrance and Harry's parents will have to come that way to get here.  Let's leave a message with the guard, just in case, and go have a cup of tea.  They're bound to turn up soon.  And if they don't … well, we'll worry about that if it happens."

So they all made their way to the gate, explained what was happening to the elderly guard, then fought their way across the crowded Muggle station to the café.  There was an awkward moment while Mr. Weasley struggled to find enough Muggle coins to pay for tea - fortunately Harry had a stash too - and then they all settled around a table.

"Well," Mr. Weasley said cheerfully, as his wife examined the café's cardboard cups of tea and plastic-wrapped cakes suspiciously.  "If you're Harry Potter, you must be related to old Wilberforce Potter somewhere, eh?"

"He was my Granddad," Harry agreed.  "I don't remember him much, though.  I was quite small when he died."

"Nice old stick.  Dotty about orchids as I recall."

"That's what Dad says," Harry said with a quick grin.

"So your dad'll be James, won't he.  I don't think we've met more than once, but my eldest son Bill was always talking about James Potter the Quidditch captain at school."

"Yes, Sir."

"And your mother?" Mrs. Weasley put in, interested.

"Lily Evans," Harry told her.  "Gryffindor, same year as Dad and my uncles."

"You'll be a Gryffindor then?"

"No, ma'am, I'm in Hufflepuff," Harry replied, calmly accepting of her surprise. 

"Unusual!" she commented.  "You're like our Ron here!  Most of the family in Gryffindor, but Ronald had to be different …."

Ron was rolling his eyes impatiently.  "Dad, what do we do if Harry's family don't turn up?" he demanded.

"I doubt that'll happen," his father said calmly.  "Parents don't just forget these things, Ron, believe me!"  All the same, Harry was looking rather anxious again, so he suggested, "Why don't you send your owl off to them anyway, Harry?  It can't hurt."

Harry nodded and dug some parchment and a quill out of his robe pocket to scribble a note.  He had to take his owl, Hedwig, around the corner to release her as the station was still full of hurrying Muggles, and he took a moment to stroke her feathers.

"You can find them, can't you, girl?"  Hedwig blinked at him.  "Well, if you can't, come straight back to me, okay?"

She hooted reassuringly and took off, and Harry went back to the café.  The Weasleys were discussing how they were going to get home; apparently it would take a trip on the Muggle Tube to get to The Leaky Cauldron and from there they would Floo.

"And it's about time the Ministry put a couple of Floo points directly onto the station platform, if you ask me," Mrs. Weasley was saying irritably.  "The fuss and _risk_ involved in us all using the Muggle station."

"There are other things that take priority, Molly," Mr. Weasley replied, with the air of someone who had been through the same argument many times before.  He glanced at his watch and for the first time his brow furrowed.  "I have to say, Harry, it looks rather like your people aren't coming, doesn't it?  I don't see how we could have missed them from here.  Where could they be, do you think?  Where does your dad work?  I could go there with you while Molly takes Ron and Ginny home."

"I don't really know where Dad will be," Harry said unhappily.  "He does some kind of special work for Mr. Dumbledore - that's why we move around so much.  And Mum's always travelling."

An arrested expression came into Mr. Weasley's eyes when Harry mentioned Mr. Dumbledore, but after a moment he shook it off and said calmly, "That's a bit awkward.  Well, I think - "

A large carrier pigeon flew through the café door and landed on their table with a thump.  It stuck its leg out for Harry to remove a message.

"Ah!" Mr. Weasley said, relieved.  "This'll be from them, I expect."

Harry was scanning the note rapidly.

"It's Mum!" he said, hugely relieved.  "She says she was supposed to collect me - I wonder why? - but the portkey she hired wasn't properly tuned."  He let out an unsteady laugh.  "It was programmed for the wrong station, Waterloo, but she thought she could go there anyway and catch the Tube here.  But when she used it there was something really wrong and now she's in Belgium!"

"Belgium!" Mrs. Weasley cried.  "Oh no!  Well, she won't be coming to collect you today, dear.  The authorities there are shockingly difficult about unauthorised trips - do you remember, Arthur?"

"That's what she says," Harry said, still reading.  "She says she's sent a message to Dad but she hopes to get back by tomorrow morning.  She wants me to go to The Leaky Cauldron and get a room there for the night.  She must be really annoyed," he added, grinning a little.  "The ink's glowing!"

"Well, that won't do," Mrs. Weasley said firmly.  "A lad your age, staying in a pub on his own?  You'll come home with us tonight, we always have room for one more."

Harry looked up, startled.  "Oh, that's okay, Mrs. Weasley - I'll be fine!"

But she was shaking her head.  "How old are you, dear?  Sixteen?  No, it won't do.  There are some shocking characters hanging around Diagon Alley these days and I wouldn't sleep a wink tonight if we left you there without an adult.  Old Tom's good enough in his way but he's running a business, not a charity, after all.  No, you get your trunk.  We'll catch the Floo there and you can leave a message for your mother with Tom."

Harry looked helplessly at Ron.

"Better give in," Ron told him, amused.  "If Mum's made her mind up, then you're coming home with us whether you like it or not!"

xXx

Harry felt uneasy about imposing himself on the Weasley family, but once Mrs. Weasley had decided on a course of action he had very little say in the arrangements.  He was swept along in her wake, and in the fuss of the five of them purchasing Tube tickets and finding the right sequence of platforms and trains, there was little space for him to protest.

They arrived at The Leaky Cauldron feeling very hot and bothered (Mrs. Weasley in particular had some sharp things to say about Muggle transport, Muggle manners and the general cleanliness of Muggle public facilities) and Harry found himself being bundled into the Floo while Mr. Weasley left a message for his mother with old Tom.

He popped out of the fireplace at the other end and found himself in a tidy little kitchen that was very clearly a wizard rather than a Muggle place.  There was a long table at one end of the room with numerous chairs around it, while opposite the fireplace was a wizard cooking range and from the ceiling hung pots, pans and other utensils side by side with bundles of herbs. 

Ron tumbled out of the Floo behind him and at once caught Harry's elbow, steering him out of the fireplace so that his parents and sister could follow.

"Come on, mate, let's dump the trunks and I'll show you around before dinner."

"I'll get the cot-bed out in a little while," Mrs. Weasley said as she removed her Muggle overcoat.  "I'd let you sleep in the twins' old room tonight, Harry dear, but you never know what you're going to find lurking under the mattresses in there.  You don't mind sharing with Ron, do you?"

"Of course not," Harry said, embarrassed.  "I don't want to put you to any bother, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it's no bother!" she said brightly.  "Leave the trunks at the bottom of the stairs, dears, we'll move them later.  Ginny, run and get changed – you look like you've been rolling on the floor of the carriage all day, what on earth were you doing?  Ron, show Harry where everything is, please.  Dinner in an hour, everyone."

"Come on," Ron said to Harry, and they took their trunks out into the passage, tucking them into a corner at the foot of the stairs.  "I'll show you my room – it's at the top of the house."

"Don't your brothers live here anymore?" Harry asked as they climbed several flights of stairs, past a number of doors.

"Bill and Charlie haven't lived here properly since they left school," Ron replied.  "They come home sometimes and we all have to double up, like when we were kids.  Percy still lives here, but we hardly ever see him.  He spends most of his time working.  And the twins have a flat over their shop."

"So it's just you and Ginny?"

"Yeah, mostly.  It's quieter," Ron said with a shrug.  "The twins were always making stuff explode and setting the ghoul off – oh, there's a ghoul in the attic.  Don't let it bother you.  It just makes weird noises occasionally.  Here's my room."

It was right at the top of the house, with an uneven floor and points where the ceiling almost seemed to touch the floor.  If it hadn't been for that, it would have been quite a large room, but Ron had filled the more difficult spaces with piles of books and magazines, and every inch of the walls and ceiling were covered in posters of the Montrose Magpies.

"I didn't know you were a Magpies fan," Harry said, watching the team zoom around in the posters.

"Top of the league aren't they?" Ron said, as though this was the obvious answer.

"I quite like the Cannons," Harry remarked.

When he looked around, Ron was giving him a disbelieving grin. 

"Are you kidding, Potter?  They are such losers!"

Harry shrugged.  "So?  They play a good game – and they don't cheat," he added dryly.

"The Magpies are not cheats!"

"How much did they pay out in fines last season?"

"That was for fouls – "

"Well, yeah," Harry said reasonably.  "And the difference between fouling and cheating is?"

"Cheating would be rigging the game," Ron said flatly.  "Or sabotaging the other team."

"And your captain says it's only cheating if you get caught," Harry pointed out.  "I've heard him."

"I don't cheat."

"Didn't we have this conversation already?  I know you don't cheat."

"So why do you keep bringing it up?"

"Because you don't seem to have much of a problem with the rest of your team cheating," Harry said tiredly.  "Forget I said it.  I don't want to have a row.  Look, is it really okay for me to stay here tonight?  Because I'd be fine at The Leaky Cauldron, honest."

"You can try saying that to my mum if you like," Ron said, after a moment's struggle with himself.  He didn't really want to let the argument go, but equally he didn't want to quarrel with Harry.  "But you don't know her.  There's no way she's going to let you stay there overnight.  Besides, you'll be sleeping in here tonight.  Which is pretty cool, don't you think?"

Harry looked at him and saw a familiar spark in Ron's blue eyes.  He grinned in spite of himself.

"On a cot-bed," he reminded him.

"Not much room for two on that," Ron pointed out blandly.

Harry rubbed his nose, still grinning but a little unsure.  "Um … do you think we should?  I mean, this is your parents' house.  Isn't it a bit risky?"

"Only if you're planning to be dead noisy, Potter, and I should be so lucky."

xXx

With that thought in mind, Harry found it rather difficult to concentrate through dinner, although Ron as usual was perfectly cool and casual.  Mrs. Weasley fussed over him, offering huge helpings of her delicious cooking, Ginny smiled at him whenever she could catch his eye, and Mr. Weasley had lots of questions about Harry's Muggle grandparents and how they lived.

Harry was just trying not to yield to the temptation of a second portion of apple crumble and custard when Hedwig flew through the open kitchen window and landed exhaustedly next to his plate.  She stuck out her leg and Harry quickly took the message.

"From your dad?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Yes … oh!  He says _Go to The Leaky Cauldron and wait there.  Sirius is coming to get you as soon as he can._ "  Harry looked up, stricken.  "I should go back there - "

"Oh no you don't, young man!" Mrs. Weasley said sharply.  "I told you earlier, The Leaky Cauldron is no place for a boy your age on his own.  Arthur left a message with old Tom and you can be sure he'll pass it on as soon as your friend gets there.  Either he or your mother can come and get you from here."

Harry was obliged to be content with this, but from then on he felt slightly restless and anxious.  Seeing this, Ron took him outside after dinner to look over the garden, talk brooms and generally try to keep Harry's mind occupied.

"What do you think you'll be doing this summer?" Ron asked him, as they lounged beside the pond and idly threw bits of stick and pebbles into it.

"No idea," Harry replied.  "I mean, I never really know because I never even know where we're going to be living.  I suppose if Mum is coming to collect me, I'll be spending some time with her.  Last time that happened we went to Spain and looked at cave paintings, but that was ages ago.  Sometimes we visit my grandparents and Aunt Petunia."

"Are they all Muggles?" Ron asked curiously.

"Yeah.  I've got a cousin called Dudley as well, but he decided to live with his dad when Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia got divorced."

"What's he like?"

"Dudley?"  Harry's face screwed up for a moment.  "He's a fat, spiteful creep, like my uncle."

Ron's brows went up at this, for it was very unlike Harry to use such harsh language, but he decided not to comment.  "So what's your mum like?"

Harry suddenly smiled.  "She's great – really wacky, but great.  She's a member of a coven and sometimes we go and stay with them.  It's – "  He paused, trying to think of a way to describe it to Ron, who seemed to have had a very conventional upbringing, but failed and shook his head.  "They're all nuts, but in a really good way."

"A coven?  Blimey!  Don't tell Mum – she thinks all coven witches are nudists and sex maniacs."

Harry stared.  "Why?"

Ron shrugged, grinning.  "Something to do with all the rituals and stuff, I think.  Don't look at me like that!  Mum doesn't know a thing about it, of course.  She reads _Witch Weekly_ and believes everything Domestic Doris writes in her stupid column every Friday.  So what's it _really_ like?"

"Covens aren't all that rare," Harry remarked.  "There must be a score or more people at school who've been brought up by covens."

"Pansy Parkinson was," Ron said, "but she's gone all snotty and sanctimonious about it since she went to live with her dad.  You'd think her mother wore bearskins and ate raw meat, the way she talks."

"Most coven witches are vegetarians ninety-nine percent of the time," Harry told him.  "Mum's coven are part of a commune anyway, so it's not just witches.  It's fun.  They all live in a big farmhouse and grow most of their own food.  Everyone joins in with the work and they have parties for all the wicca festivals.  I've stayed with them loads of times – sometimes Dad and my uncles come along too.  Everyone's welcome – wandering wizards and witches and so on.  It's brilliant.  Sometimes someone'll turn up who's a Seer or a really good storyteller or musician and they stay for a few days."

"You have a seriously weird life," Ron told him.  "You know that, don't you?"

Harry grinned at him.  "It's not weird.  It's great."

"Your family are whacked out, Potter.  They managed to screw up and leave you standing on the platform today – "

"It was an accident and it could happen to anyone!"  Harry broke a piece off a twig and threw it into the pond.  "Besides, I would have been okay at The Leaky Cauldron.  Really."

"You'll never convince Mum of that," Ron said.  He gave Harry a dig in the ribs with one elbow.  "Besides, this is pretty good, don't you think?  You getting to spend the night here."

Harry looked at him and swallowed a smile.  "Yeah … could be at that."

When they went back into the house a while later, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were nowhere to be seen.

"I'd better dig out that cot-bed," Ron told him. 

He disappeared into a large cupboard under the staircase, leaving Harry waiting in the passage and looking around curiously at the knickknacks everywhere.  He'd just wandered away to take a closer look at a quirky grandfather clock when he overheard a snatch of conversation coming from a room behind him.  The door was almost closed, but it was Mr. Weasley's voice.

"…said his father worked for Dumbledore, Molly.  Do you realise what that means?"

"I thought the old man was dead, Arthur!"

"Not likely!  But that must mean James Potter and his friends are what's left of the Unspeakables."

"Oh, nonsense …."

"Molly, even the boy doesn't know what they're doing, and he lives with them when he's not at school!  Gracious, I've heard some funny rumours at the Ministry over the last few years, but I always thought it was bunkum – "

"Give us a hand with this, will you, mate?" Ron said, and Harry quickly turned to help him with the unwieldy cot-bed.  Between them they wrestled it up the stairs and into Ron's room.  There wasn't a lot of room, but they unfolded it at the foot of Ron's bed and went back to get their trunks from where they were still stacked at the bottom of the stairs.

Harry rummaged in his trunk for his wash-bag and pyjamas, then sat on the closed lid while he watched Ron emptying his and putting things away.

"Ron," he said finally.  "What are the Unspeakables?"

Ron looked up, mildly surprised.  "Where'd you hear about them?"

"Just people talking," Harry said vaguely.

"Dad could tell you more than me.  They used to be a department at the Ministry – the Department of Mysteries.  Dunno why they were called Unspeakables.  No one really knows what they did, but during the war they were really important."

"The war?"

"Yeah."  Ron frowned.  "I know Professor Binns has a ruddy obsession with the Goblin Wars, but you must have heard a bit about the war – your Mum and Dad would be old enough to have been in it."

"I've heard of it, but they don't talk about it much.  So if the Department of Mysteries doesn't exist anymore, what happened to them?"

"Dad says they worked with the Aurors during the war and afterwards … well, a lot of them were killed or just disappeared.  And the Ministry closed the Department when it was all over.  There's a whole section of the building that's not accessible anymore, they just sealed it off."

Harry didn't know what to make of that.  Ron looked at him, perplexed.

"Come on, mate, I'll show you where the bathroom is."

When he returned to Ron's room after washing, brushing his teeth and changing, Mrs. Weasley was there, arranging pillows on the cot-bed and turning down blankets.

"There you are, Harry dear," she said, motherly and solicitous.  "I hope you'll be comfortable there … that old cot-bed's seen some use."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley.  I'll be fine."

"I borrowed Percy's owl stand for your owl to use, just for tonight.  Poor thing, she looks exhausted."

Harry was grateful for this, as Hedwig definitely looked tired after her brisk journey to his father and back that afternoon.  Mrs. Weasley fussed with his blankets a little while longer, then bade both boys goodnight (adding an injunction not to stay up talking all night) and disappeared down the crooked staircase.

"I'll go get washed up," Ron said, grabbing his own pyjamas.  He shot Harry a quick grin.  "Don't go nodding off!"

Harry rolled his eyes, but when Ron was gone he wriggled under the blankets on the cot-bed and reached out to his trunk, which was barely a foot away.  He found his diary and a quill and spent ten minutes updating it carefully, as he always did. 

Ron returned a few minutes after Harry put the diary away, muttering about his sister stinking up the bathroom with disgusting floral soap, and dimmed the lamp, scrambling into bed.  There was a pause.  Then the bed creaked and Ron's head appeared over the end.

"Are you coming up here, then?" he asked Harry.

"Won't your family hear?" Harry asked him doubtfully.

"We'll use a silencing spell if you're that worried," Ron said reasonably.  "I can now, I'm seventeen."  He paused.  "Unless you really want to sleep on that old cot-bed all night."

They looked at each other and Harry grinned, making the redhead snigger. 

"Hang on, let me find my wand …."

xXx

They'd been in the habit of grabbing each other at every opportunity for some months now, ever since their encounter in the Hufflepuff team showers at the start of the Quidditch season, but this was the first time they'd done it anywhere quite so comfortable, a distinction which Harry appreciated.  And being tucked away in Ron's little bedroom gave them time and the opportunity for creativity, as a change from the hasty hand-jobs and blow-jobs which were all they ever seemed to manage in the chilly, uncomfortable nooks that were the spots of temporary privacy they found together at school.  They had each other out of their pyjamas within seconds and then it was all hands, mouths, cocks and skin - marvellous, heated, sweat-and-arousal-damp skin.

Perhaps the part Harry missed the most during their previous encounters was never seeing more than random scraps of Ron's skin.  That one occasion in the showers had allowed them to explore each other's bodies properly, but ever since then they'd been forced to be cautious, never shedding more clothing than could be whisked back on in split seconds.  He was tired of only ever touching Ron through the barrier of uniform trousers and shirts.  They were overdue for this break and he made maximum use of the opportunity, pushing Ron onto his back and straddling him so that he could touch as he liked more easily.

Ron grinned up at him, but didn't dispute the position – or at least not yet.  He settled himself comfortably into his pillows and rested his hands on Harry's thighs, waiting to see what he would do.  Harry was intent on reacquainting himself with his friend's body, starting from the shoulders.

Like many redheads, Ron had freckles in places most people wouldn't expect.  They extended far beyond the face and neck – places where the sun might reasonably be expected to produce them – over his shoulders and a little way down his chest, fading out slowly to non-existence.  Harry ran first his fingertips over them, then leaned forward to trace them with his lips and tongue, making Ron shiver and slide his hands around to grip his arse lightly.  When his lips moved lower, brushing over a flat nipple, nosing the light dusting of coppery hair that had started to appear over the broadening expanse of Ron's chest over the past year, Ron gasped and grabbed his wrists, forcing him up and away.

"No!" he panted.  "Too much – "

They were both hard, both eager, but Harry knew he had more patience than Ron did.  He knew something else, too; something far more important to their relationship. 

However much Ron might like to play at being the tough one, the one in charge in their relationship, Harry knew – and he suspected that Ron did too – that _he_ was the one really in charge.  He was the one with the patience and self-control, the one who teased and strung it out, the one who said when they would be together and how it would be played out.  He had an inner sense for Ron and knew how to play on it, so that his own appearance of submission was maintained and his stubborn, quick-tempered friend's pride wasn't hurt.  "Topping from the bottom," his Uncle Sirius called it.

Besides, he had discovered just how exciting control could be.  It was perhaps fortunate for Ron that Harry was the kind of person he was and only used his power over his friend for their mutual enjoyment.  As it was, it gave their friendship a decided thrill.

He looked down at Ron's flushed face now, assessing the situation, and made an experimental move towards his friend's nipples again.  Ron's grip on his wrists tightened, preventing him.  Harry gently disengaged them and sat back on his heels instead, stretching his arms languidly above his head and making all the muscles of his chest and stomach jump tautly.  Something else jumped with the motion too and he felt rather than saw Ron's own cock jerk against him in response.

Ron let out a sound that was half gasp, half groan, and he surged upright, grabbing Harry and wrestling him down among the sheets and pillows, making the smaller boy laugh softly.

"Git," Ron panted, pinning Harry's wrists either side of his head – an unnecessary move, for Harry wasn't resisting him at all.  "Fucking tease …."

"Yeah?"

"You think I don't see how pricks like Finnigan and Finch-Fletchley watch you?  And you know they're watching, don't you?  I've seen your face …."

Harry breathed a laugh.  Ron pushed his legs apart with a bony knee, sliding between them, and Harry helped him out by hooking one foot around his thigh, pulling them together.

"Finnegan's got everyone chasing him," he said breathlessly, "and Finch-Fletchley – he's a homophobic arsehole – should hear him talk in the common room – "

"They're always the worst," Ron said scornfully.  "Saying how much they – hate it, when really they just – want to be shoved up against a wall and – and shagged – "

He set up a steady, rhythmic, maddening slide against Harry that was good but not quite right.  Harry tried to shift himself into a better position, but had no purchase with his hands restrained.

"Let me go?" he panted.  "Please?"

"Not a chance," Ron retorted, grinning down at him, and he varied the movement slightly, making Harry gasp.

"Please - just want to touch you …."

That kind of plea appealed to Ron; his need to be dominant tied into an oddly traditional, must-be-the-man attitude towards sex and he liked it when Harry bought into the fantasy by pretending to be less in control than he was.  He released the other boy's hands, bracing himself against the mattress instead, and Harry grabbed hold of his forearms, lifting his hips a little.  They both gasped at the extra pressure.

"Better," Harry breathed, and ye gods! was it ever.  He could feel the sour-sweet tension building and pushed up against Ron, erections sliding together hot and hard.

Abruptly Ron cried out, eyes scrunched tightly shut, and Harry felt the hot rush as he came.  He sagged for a moment with his head on Harry's shoulder, not quite collapsing on top of him, then he swore weakly and thumped the mattress with one fist.

"Shit!"

Adrenaline and lust were still galloping through Harry and his erection ached, but he grabbed a handful of Ron's hair and dragged his head up, kissing him fiercely.

"It's not a fucking competition, Ron!" he hissed when he released him.  Then he gave his shoulder a sharp shove, rolling the bigger boy off him and onto his side.  He rolled himself until they were pressed together, face to face, and his erection was prodding Ron in the belly.

Harry gave him a pleading look.  "Now give me a hand here!"

xXx

Ron was a snuggler.  This amused Harry, when he woke up and discovered a hot body wrapped around him like cling-film, although he couldn't help feeling that it wasn't really the weather for it - they were both sweating liberally in stuffy little attic room.  After a while, he carefully pulled out of Ron's possessive grip and sat up, deciding that it was definitely a good idea to take a shower.

He took a towel and his wash-bag down to the bathroom with him.  Nudity had never been a problem for Harry; he had been raised by a group of people who spent as much time out of their clothes as in them and embarrassment had never factored into it.  The Weasleys, he suspected, were rather more prudish if Ron was anything to go by, so he made a point of emerging from the bathroom with his towel wrapped chastely around his hips.  This was just as well as he was immediately confronted by Ron's fifteen year old sister Ginny, also wearing nothing but a large towel and clearly heading for the bathroom.  For a split second her huge brown eyes flicked over him comprehensively and rather hungrily.  Then she shrieked and raced back to her own room.

"Morning!" he called after her, tickled by her two wildly contrasting responses to his bare chest.

It wasn't as though there was anything to be ashamed of in her first, more honest reaction – or not that he could see - but perhaps she was afraid people would get the wrong idea if she was seen to do something other than blush and avert her eyes.  Harry didn't suffer from qualms like that.  He would be the first person to say that he thought Ginny was a very pretty girl, especially out of her school uniform, even if she wasn't to his personal taste.

Ron blinked at him groggily from the depths of his pillow when Harry returned to the bedroom. 

"Wassamarrer with Gin?" he mumbled.

"Dunno - never seen a bloke in a towel before?" Harry suggested.  He tugged the towel off and began to dry himself, but Ron had already drifted back to sleep and was therefore unable to appreciate the view that Ginny had missed.

He finished drying himself off and dressed, pulling on clean jeans and one of his Hufflepuff Quidditch jerseys.  He was a little hesitant as he walked downstairs, but Ginny was nowhere to be seen and as he reached the final landing a pair of familiar voices drifted up and he finished at a near run.

"Mum!"

Lily Evans jumped up from Mrs. Weasley's kitchen table, where she had been having tea with Ron's mother, and threw her arms around him.

"Hello, you!  Goodness, you've grown.  I'm so sorry I didn't meet you yesterday - that stupid portkey - and that even stupider man in Belgium …."

She looked a bit like a grown up Holly Hobbie doll in her patchwork pinafore dress, puffy-sleeved blouse and button boots; all it needed was an apron and a poke bonnet to complete the image.  Her bright auburn hair was piled onto the back of her head in a bun from which bits were escaping, and Harry could see the end of a hand-carved pin sticking out of it.  His father had made that, he could tell from the design.

Then Harry realised that he was tall enough to look his mother straight in eyes now, and at once felt awkward and self-conscious about it.

Lily laughed as she released him.  "I'm going to have to take you to see Aunt Petunia so she can sort out your uniforms again - I don't suppose any of them fit you anymore!"  She looked at Mrs. Weasley.  "My sister makes all Harry's uniforms for him.  I suppose I shouldn't say this, but she does far better work than Madam Malkin and it doesn't cost a fraction as much!"

Meanwhile, a tall, lanky figure was uncurling himself from his seat at the table.

"Don't I get a welcome too?" he asked, and Harry grinned, hugging him.

"Uncle Sirius …."

Sirius Black chuckled, squeezing him in a bear hug.  "You had us all in a fine flap, sunshine!  Your dad was hopping around like a bug in a hot frying pan when he got your message.  He would have dropped everything and come himself, but it was a bit of a delicate moment ….  Anyway, you've got a choice now.  You can come and live in a tent with us for three weeks, and spend half of it watching Uncle Peter lose control of his shape every five minutes - "

"Lose control of his shape?" Lily said, surprised.  "Why, what's the matter with him?"

"Gets himself knackered, then can't control the change," Sirius said casually.  "We wake up every morning to find a rat in his bedroll."

Mrs. Weasley made a dismayed sound.

"Or you can go with your mum for three weeks," Sirius finished.

"I thought we could look at some caves I've heard about in Devon," Lily told Harry, "and visit the coven in Totnes while we're there - Maevi always asks about you, you know.  Then we'll spend a week with Gran and Granddad and Aunt Petunia in Surrey." 

"Sleeping in the garden shed," Sirius added, a grin curling the corner of his mouth.

Lily slapped his arm.  "It's not a shed!  It's a summer house, and we only slept in there last time because Dudley was staying as well!"

"Looked like a shed to me.  And if you take him to see the coven, Maevi will want him to be the King Stag now he's growing up - "

"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"  Lily reached out to touch Harry's hair fondly.  "He's not old enough to be the King Stag."

"I'm nearly seventeen," Harry pointed out.

"Oh help!  I suppose you are.  Well, it'll be your decision, but Maevi must be over forty.  It's about time she let one of the younger girls take over in the ritual - "

"Ha!  That'll be the day!" Sirius snorted.  "She's never forgiven you for taking her place that one time."

"That's because James would never agree to do it again," Lily said, amused.

"I didn't say I _wanted_ to be the King Stag," Harry said hurriedly.

"It'll clear up your spots," Sirius teased.

Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat, interrupting the conversation. 

  

  1. "I'm sure you have a long way to go, both of you."
  



"Well?" Sirius said, turning to face Harry.  "Do you fancy tents or garden sheds?  You can watch Uncle Peter  changing into a rat when you least expect it, or get chased naked across the open fields by lustful young witches.  Put like that, it isn't much of a decision really, is it?"

Harry grinned at him.  "I'll get my trunk."

Ron was sitting on the stairs when he got there and raised one dark red brow sardonically.

"'Get chased naked across open fields'?" he quoted.

Harry grinned at him.  "Not quite naked," he joked.  "You have a pattern painted on you in woad …."

"That'll make all the difference."

Harry sat down beside him.  "Maybe you wouldn't want to be chased naked across a field by witches."

"What's it for anyway?" Ron wanted to know.

"It's a fertility rite.  It's a kind of mock hunt, where everyone chases a bloke done up as the King Stag with antlers and stuff.  There's a special feast afterwards and the high priestess - or Huntress - finishes the rite with the bloke who plays the King Stag."

Ron rolled his eyes, grinning.  "Why don't you just say it, Potter!"

"She drags him into her tent and ravishes him repeatedly," Harry said, straight-faced.

"And your dad did it?"

"Yeah."  Harry suddenly grinned again.  "How do you think him and Mum ended up with me?  That's why Maevi - she's the current high priestess - is so keen for me to do it.  There's some kind of ritual significance to the son of a previous King Stag and Huntress performing the rite."

"Plus she wants to get her hands on your body," Ron jeered.

Harry winked at him.  "Doesn't everyone?"

"No arguments!"  Ron rubbed his chin.  He seemed to be torn between mild annoyance, amusement and intrigue.  "So will you do it?"

"Not if Maevi plays the Huntress," Harry said, deadpan.

"What if it's some other saucy little witch with no togs on?"

"What would you do?"

Ron looked at him and huffed a laugh.  "Go for it like a shot, I reckon!"

"Would you rather I didn't?" Harry asked him, suddenly serious.

Ron looked away.  He wasn't comfortable with the question, Harry could tell.

"You should do whatever you want," he said gruffly after a moment or two.  "I'm not stupid, Potter.  I don't own you and never could."

Harry eyed his friend's profile, smiling bemusedly.  "What's ownership got to do with it?"

"Your lot are different," Ron said, picking at a loose tuft on the stair carpet.  "You don't get married or – "

"Who says we don't?"

"Your mum and dad – "

" – Aren't married because they've never felt like they need to be.  They're still together, though.  What, did you think they weren't?"

Ron stared at him.  "How can they be, when your mum's always abroad and your dad never stays in one place?"

Harry shrugged, amused.  "If they think they're together, then they're together.  Aren't they?"  He could tell at once that Ron didn't understand this, though.  "Look, people in the coven get married if they want to.  But if they don't want to, they don't.  There's all sorts of ways to be together, you know.  My Uncle Sirius downstairs?  He and Uncle Remus are married.  They had this ceremony with another coven just before I started at Hogwarts.  And there's a family in Mum's coven, there are five of them and they're all married."

He thought Ron's eyes were going to pop out in shock. 

" _Five?_   How?!  I mean, that's … _how?_ "

Harry chuckled.  "There's two blokes and three women, and they're _all_ together."  Seeing Ron reduced to spluttering disbelief made him mischievous.  "And if you think that's weird, you haven't met my Uncle Peter.  He's … what's the word Uncle Remus has for it?  Oh yeah, _asexual_.  It means he's not interested in sex at all.  Never has been."

"You're having me on," Ron said indignantly.  "How can he not be interested?  He's a bloke!"

"I don't know.  I just know that he isn't.  Uncle Sirius told me once that he doesn't even, you know - wank."

This was possibly the most disturbing thing Harry had told Ron yet and the redhead didn't know what to do with the information.  There were people who weren't interested in sex?  At all?  God, he couldn't even imagine how that was possible.  He thought about sex practically all the time, mostly in conjunction with Harry.

"Do you want to own me?" Harry asked him softly.

"I …."  Ron swallowed and looked down at his hands.  "It's not that I want to own you.  It's – "

"You sounded pretty possessive last night," Harry interrupted mildly.

"Yeah, well," Ron mumbled.

"It's okay.  I just want to know what we are, you know?  I'm not really interested in screwing around and I don't want there to be five of us together, or anything like that.  But I'd like to know if we're just, I don't know, _serious_ or not.  I mean, if I slept with someone at the coven would you go nuts or would you not care one way or the other?"

"I'd care," Ron said quietly to the stair carpet.

"Okay.  That's good."  Harry paused.  "And just so you know, I think I'd really hate it if you screwed Theo Nott or someone like that.  Or anyone except me, really."

"Yeah, well I'm not going to."

"Good.  As for Finnigan and Finch-Fletchley, they haven't got a hope."

"Bloody good thing too," Ron said with something like his normal pugnacity.

Harry chuckled and stood up.  "I'd better get my trunk.  Mum's always late for something, so she'll want to get going."

xXx

Considering her determination to have him under her roof the night before, Harry couldn't help thinking that Mrs. Weasley was keen to get rid of him the following morning.  Oh, she was as cordial as ever towards _him_ , but she had clearly decided his mother and uncle were dangerous influences to be brushed out of the door as fast as was politely possible.

Sirius clued into this at once and, typically, found it tremendously amusing.  It was harder to tell with Harry's mother, as she was her usual breezy, whirlwind self, expressing her gratitude to Mrs. Weasley once again as they all trailed into the little yard outside the kitchen door and smiling around at everyone as she chattered lightly.

"Well, I suppose we should be off ….  Sirius, I can't imagine where you're all camped but it must be _leagues_ away if it took you until this morning to get here.  And dragging your trunk around must be a bore, Harry darling.  Thank you again, Mrs. Weasley, I have to admit that I wasn't really happy with the idea of him spending a night on his own at The Leaky Cauldron, although I know they're perfectly respectable there.  As for you – " here she turned to Ron and patted his arm, beaming up at him, "you absolutely _must_ come and stay with us for a few days later in the holiday.  It’ll be so nice for Harry to have a friend to stay for once."

Harry managed to smother his grin at Mrs. Weasley's look of suppressed horror, but Sirius had to cover his mouth with one hand. 

"That's very kind," Mrs. Weasley said hastily, "but Ron wouldn't dream of imposing – "

"Oh, it's no imposition!" Lily assured her happily.  "Everyone at the coven loves to have new faces around, and I'm sure your lad will enjoy it!  There are always parties during the summer and different people passing through – entertainers and so on, you know.  And I expect it'll be nice for you to have him out of the way for a few days, it'll give you and your husband some time to yourselves – your girl would be welcome too!"  She smiled at Ginny, who beamed back, thrilled by the idea.  "That's settled then."

"But …." Mrs. Weasley began weakly.

But Lily Evans was like a juggernaut at full tilt when she got an idea.  "As soon as we're settled there, Harry can owl Ron and we'll send a portkey for them."  She was interrupted by a soft chiming from a pendant hanging around her neck; when she picked it up and looked at it, her expression turned to alarm.  "Look at the time!  We really must be going now, Harry."

Harry grabbed Ron's hand, grinning.  "I'll owl you later in the month then, mate!"

"Maybe," Ron said, eying his mother's red face warily.

"Want to lay any bets on it?" Harry said, _sotto voce_ , and he winked.  Then he thanked Mrs. Weasley again, said goodbye to Ginny and grabbed his trunk handle and Hedwig's cage and followed his mother and uncle to the gate.

 **\- The End -**

 

 


End file.
